


Slayer's Creed

by LadyLustful



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Buffy-fic-typical apocalypse-averting fuckage, Crack Crossover, Double Entendres, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Smut and Crack, Fuck Or Die, Hair-pulling, Haytham loves having his hair pulled, Humor, Lemony Narrator Narrating a Lime, Misfire fill, Oh Myyy, Protective Connor, Saving the World, Teenage Connor, Vampire Slayer Ziio/Watcher Haytham, in which Spuffy tropes are applied to Hayziio, kinkmeme fill, mention of Edward in a foursome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLustful/pseuds/LadyLustful
Summary: Ziio is a Vampire Slayer in modern New York, and the single mother of teenage Connor. But when the Hellmouth threatens to open, and her former Watcher and lover Haytham Kenway comes to town, everything changes.Or, in which Buffy tropes are applied to AC and Hayziio literally save the world with sex.Or, the crossover you never knew you wanted.Fill to this: https://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2158.html?thread=12595822#cmt12595822





	Slayer's Creed

**Author's Note:**

> Buffyverse, except with multiple Hellmouths and multiple Slayers. Ziio carries a hatchet because stakes are good for vampires, but hatchets are good for everything. And also, made of badass. Or should I say... bad-axe? *puts on glasses and drives the Humvee back to CSI*

Haytham fought the urge to fidget as he sat at the scarred pine kitchen table across from Ziio. He may not have seen her for years, but she was still as beautiful and terrifying as ever. She even still dressed pretty much the same, wearing two braids and a minidress with beads and fringes, which should have looked ridiculous on a woman nearing forty, but instead, looked great. The phrase “absurdly youthful” crossed his mind, and he brushed his hands over his hair, suddenly self-conscious of the gray ponytail.  
“Well, what do you have?” Ziio gave the three Watchers an glare, bringing Haytham back to the present.  
Shaun took off his glasses and polished them.  
“Apparently it's worse than we thought. Juno is not going to open the Hellmouth, she has already performed the ritual. As we speak, the power she summoned is working to unravel the fabric separating our reality from infernal ones.”  
“English?” asked Desmond in a small voice.  
“The Hellmouth is already opening, slowly”, said Rebecca.  
“Well yes. We have researched a spell to stop it, but you're not going to like it”, said Shaun.  
Haytham continued staring mutely at Ziio.  
“Juno used very old and very dark magics, using a blood sacrifice, basing the power of her spell on the pain, hate and death of her victim. Fortunately, such spells can typically by countered by an equally primal act of life, love and pleasure.”  
“Also known as sexual intercourse”, Shaun added entirely unnecessarily. Haytham looked physically pained by his embarrassment.  
“Right”, said Ziio, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “I just need to have sex on top of the Hellmouth to undo the what's-it-called spell and avert the apocalypse."  
Connor made a face.  
"Ew mum, icky."  
"I sincerely hope not. You were brought into this world by sex and should not be disgusted by it. Besides, the life of a vampire slayer is full of many much ickier things than your parents screwing to prevent the end of the world."  
Haytham coughed awkwardly.  
"As a Watcher, I must agree. Demon intestines, to name one."  
“Are you sure you want to this, Ziio?”, asked Rebecca. “Me and Shaun could... I mean we're not like that but we could be... I don't mind.”  
It was Shaun's turn to look awkward.  
“No, I'm fine”, said Ziio hurriedly. “I am the vampire slayer. I'll do it. Unless Haytham here minds?”  
“No, I don't mind”, he assured her awkwardly. “After all these years apart, I cannot claim...”  
“Good”, Ziio cut him off. “I'll enjoy doing it with you. For all your numerous flaws, you could hardly be accused of being a poor lover.”  
Haytham, who had apparently picked the exact wrong moment to take a sip of his tea, choked on it. Connor thumped him on the back with enough force to leave a bruise, looking cluelessly innocent.  
“I'll be thrilled,” Haytham wheezed as he regained his breath. “And honoured. That you chose me.”  
Connor rolled his eyes.  
“Good”, said Shaun. “We'll meet here after twenty minutes to get your... supplies.”  
  
The Hellmouth cave may not have looked very Hellmouthy at first glance, but it definitely was very cavey. It was large, and it was dark, and it was cold, not the frigid bite of winter but the softer, but no less persistent chill of a fridge running at a low setting, and just humid enough to make the cold felt. Shaun, Connor, the witch Rebecca, and Shaun's rookie Slayer Desmond had stayed at the mouth of the cave, guarding it.  
Ziio walked ahead, still in her ridiculously Woodstocky (ridiculously sexy) dress, carrying her trusty hatchet and small backpack in colourful abstract patterns. Haytham shuddered to think what what was inside. The handbags of women were like a hell dimention for lost small objects, and the bags of Slayers were worse.  
As they reached the large (vaguely liver-shaped) rock that marks the Hellmouth and Ziio opened the backpack, his fears were confirmed. Cellphone. Stakes. Matches. Salt. Sage. Ragged little notebook. Candles. Lipstick. Keychain figurine _without_ the chain (“Why do I even _have_ it?”). Sticky tape. Aspirin. Patterned cotton scarf thingy. Strawberry flavoured lube.  
“Strawberry flavoured lube? You have strawberry flavoured lube?”  
“Yes, and?”  
“May I ask why you have strawberry flavoured lube?”  
“A lady has to keep herself entertained, even if she's alone.”  
“You do remember strawberry's my favourite?”  
“I may have... developed a taste for it when we were together.”  
Blood rushed to Haytham's cheeks, and other places, as he remembered how, exactly, Ziio may have developed a _taste_ for strawberry lube. It's dark, but of course Ziio notices.  
“Would you like me to do that again?”  
“You are too kind.”  
“I fully expect you to return the favour, you know. Now take off your pants.”  
  
Twenty-odd minutes later found them making out like the teenagers they were not.  
“Haytham, I need you to fuck me now”, said Ziio.  
Haytham thought it was an excellent idea, considering the hardness of his dick and the wetness of her pussy around his fingers. He made an inarticulate noise of affirmation against her breast, crooking his fingers inside her for emphasis, prompting a gasp.  
“How do you want it?”, he detached his mouth from her nipple long enough to speak.  
“Me on top. That way I can throw my axe at any big bad that comes out of the Hellmouth”, and it was just insulting that she was still able to form a coherent, if somewhat breathless sentence, let alone think about axes and big bads. Then again, this kind of lethal focus was sexy in its own right.  
“God, I love it when you're all murderous.”  
“Less talking, more sex.”  
  
This was by far the best sex Haytham had had in well over a decade. Not that he had had much sex in the past decade, but still, this was pretty great by any standards. For one, he was with Ziio, who was a very attractive woman in general and something of a love of his in particular. For another, he was buried deep inside her, inside this slick, wet, perfect heat, with his face in her neck and her hand in his hair. And this may not have been as erotic to most people, but for him, having his head scratched and his hair pulled was something that threatened to make him come undone. Literally. As in, without anyone doing him. Which would have been problematic for his pride if it hadn't snuck off somewhere about the same time as his clothes and his ability to focus on on doing anything but Ziio. Not that she wasn't just as close, judging by the little sounds she made and the way she squeezed him desperately every time he rubbed his thumb over her clitoris. Which, incidentally, weren't at all helping with his desperate state of arousal.  
“God, Ziio!”, he gasped and ground deeper into her, beyond the ability to string together more than two words. Ziio came screaming something that Haytham was positive wasn't even in English, and he followed soon after.  
  
Connor heard the scream from the mouth of the cave. It was his mother's voice, sure enough, but he had never heard her make that sound. Gripping his tomahawk and ignoring his companions' startled cries, he broke into a dead run.

What he saw was both better and worse than he expected. Better, because it wasn't his parents getting horribly murdered by some unidentifiable abomination. Worse, because that was much... more of his parents than he ever either expected or wanted to see. Not that he'd ever really expected to ever see his father at all before today, but he'd certainly never wanted to see him getting dirty with his mother. Not that they were in any way unhot people, objectively. There was just too much awkward. 

Haytham noticed him first and cleared his throat.  
“Son? Would you mind leaving and giving us some privacy?”  
Connor wanted to never ever obey Haytham just on principle, but then, leaving did sound like a good idea. Leaving, and possibly bleaching his brain.  
Ziio blushed as she realised Connor had seen them, a deep rosy flush covering her dark skin all the way from the freckled bridge of her nose to her erect nipples.  
“We probably scarred him for life, you know”, she said.  
Haytham chuckled, a low, dark sound she had not thought the prim, posh man to be capable of.  
“He'll come to terms with it. I remember that time I walked in on my father...”  
“With a woman?”  
“With two women and a man. Edward never did do anything by half. But that's a long story for another time, I think.”  
“What would you do now?”  
“Well, I was planning to kiss and lick you until I can fuck you again, if you please so, milady.”  
And Ziio laughs, because there is ridiculous and then there is talking dirty like a Jane Austen novel, which – newsflash – she for some reason still finds as attractive as she she did all these years ago, because apparently, piss-poor taste just doesn't change. And while she doesn't do old-fashioned and formal as well as Haytham, she can do that. Case in point, one Mr Old-Fashioned and Formal, freshly done, lying next to her making her feel all happy and girly and giggly.  
“Why Mr Kenway, I thought you would never ask.”  
  
“Haytham”, said Shaun. “Haytham! Why are there rainbow-colored unicorns coming out of the Hellmouth?”  
“We may have, ah, overdone the counterspell”, said Haytham, sleepy and cheerful. Both he and Ziio looked utterly fucked out, flushed, hastily-thrown-on clothes rumpled and wet-stained, Ziio's braids and Haytham's ponytail coming undone. Connor studiously tried to avoid looking at them both.  
Rebecca grinned. Desmond facepalmed.  
  


Epilogue

"Haytham Kenway?"  
Haytham turns away from where he's staring at the Ziio's kettle like it will make it boil faster. Connor - Ziio's son, his and Ziio's son - is standing beside him, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. He's quiet for his size, both literally and figuratively, almost unsettlingly so, which makes him appear smaller, but up close he's at least three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than Haytham, all high school athlete muscle and angsty teenage awkwardness.  
"Just because you... conceived me, and now came back, doesn't make you my father. I don't need you, I don't want you, I don't like you, I can hardly stand you, and I don't think this will change. But you make my mother happy for some reason, and I'm willing to tolerate you for her sake. But if you hurt her again, remember she's not the only one who's good with an axe, and that I will not hesitate to use it. Are we clear?"  
Haytham has the gall to look offended rather than properly intimidated.  
"Perfectly. What kind of heartless lout do you take me for?"  
"The one that ran out sixteen years ago? Run again, and this time you will not get far."  
The kettle chooses that moment to whistle.

 


End file.
